


I Know I'm a Weirdo, But You Like the Way I Think

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Ryden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Highschool AU. "So. Um. I think we - well, you, um. I think there's been a misconception? Of sorts?"Idly, Ryan hummed at the use of a word over two syllables. Then he realized what it was Brendon just said, and he perked up, just a tiny amount, but enough to let Brendon know via his body language that he was interested in what he had to say.





	

**Author's Note:**

> pre nanoryro goodness. good old high school au. title is from holychild's "U Make Me Sick".

Nightmares.

Ryan usually woke up in a cold sweat, the water in his eyes beginning to blind him, his breaths short and quick.

Dreams, though. He much rather preferred those.

Those times he woke up warm and comfortable, having to blink his eyes a few times as his lips naturally quirked up, breaths paced and soft. It always seemed to be warmer, more joyous when Ryan's dreams were good. It didn't make sense, no, he woke up at the exact same time; an ungodly hour of the morning, whatever, he was just like any other teenager.

When he awakened, it was like the moon had swallowed the sun; though that was against the entirety of any physics ever, it sure looked like it. Maybe it was the fact his curtains were almost always nearly-closed.

He frustratingly sat up out of bed, not bothering to rub his eyes since there was nought to see, anyways. He made his way to the bathroom, subsequently brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror, maybe a little vain. It was this odd process, but he couldn't help it - the mirror was right in front of the sink, duh. It wasn't like he was going stop brushing his teeth. He quite enjoyed his life free of tooth decay, thank you very much.

He spit the remnants of the watery toothpaste in the sink, his mouth fresher and definitely less gross.

Ryan then procedurely made his way back to his bedroom, silent as he shuffled to his drawer. He got dressed in his most auspicious jeans and whatever shirt, not caring much about the way he looked. Well, no, okay, that was a lie - he did, it was just better to pretend like he didn't. Besides, anything looked good when put with the jeans he was wearing. Except his face, duh.

The deal with him, right, he started wearing makeup when he was fifteen, because, well, if Victoria Asher could do it, so could he. Besides, everyone liked her, and Ryan wanted to be liked.

It was one of the opposite reactions; more and more of his friends, like Brent, for example, stopped talking to him. Whatever. Sophmore year sucked, anyway, and he was glad that now he had a decent group of friends to hang out with. Ones that complimented his eyeliner skills, and even once bought him a tub of mascara for his birthday.

So, yeah, Ryan liked makeup.

Also, he was one of the only boys at school (at least in his grade) that wore it. (Others included Pete Wentz, who had a love for circumlocution, like him. Also included, Ryan thought, was Spencer, because one time Ryan made him put eyeliner on). It was kind of his thing to wear makeup, but more so, he always drew a little motif on the top of his cheek. Sometimes it was a heart, sometimes a star, sometimes a bird, and his new favorite had become a little Saturn.

He figured out this was what defined him when one day, he just showed up with some smudged black under his eyes, and many people just stopped and gaped. So, yeah, it was his thing.

This was what he usually thought when he sat at his desk to get ready. So, yeah. Whatever. Normal, typical day.

Outside, the sky didn't seem to get lighter. Ryan squinted and internally shrugged, deciding, whatever.

*

On the rarely rainy strenuous stride to school, Ryan had to pull up his hoodie so his freshly-styled hair wouldn't get wet. Green Day rung in his ears and he held a scowl.

*

His face lighted up when he saw his small group of friends standing at their usual spot, the center of the courtyard. Here, they could observe anyone they wanted in easy view and they wouldn't get judged. Well. Mostly.

"...know what? I bet she's wearing a thong," Z said in between giggles, and to that, Langley nodded, nearly doubling over. Her face edged dangerously close to the grated table, face scrunched up. Z smiled along to her own joke.

"Ryan!"

She turned around and grinned even more when she noticed Ryan strolling behind her. She stretched her arm out, and Ryan grasped her hand, sitting on the empty space between her and Langley. They were organised, yeah, they had a seating plan. Across from Ryan was Lola, eyes on her phone, rings visible on her long hands. (Ryan wore makeup, but he wouldn't go as far as jewelry. Not in high school anyway. He would get so, so punched in the face). Next to Lola was Paige, looking over Lola's shoulder at her phone, grinning and being adorable, or whatever. Ryan would never call her this out loud, of course - she would murder him.

And, okay, he didn't just have girl friends. He hung out with Spencer, and that seemed to be enough. Besides, almost all the boys in his school were floppy-haired annoying-ass hoes. Which, by the way, wasn't his term - Langley coined it before him.

The only decent boy was Brendon Urie. He was, well - hot, in a weird way. He was sort of Ryan's friend - an acquaintance, more or less. Someone he talked to in class.

Occasionally, Spencer made fun of him, and this is why he liked having girls for friends better. They just helped him on his longing, pining quest. Or, whatever, he would never ask him out. Ryan really liked being single. Besides, if he got a boyfriend (or a girlfriend), they'd be jealous of him, because Ryan much rather preferred his friends. Of course, that was only if they actually liked Ryan. He should listen to his dad more often - should stop being so self-centered.

He was pulled out of his morose thoughts by Z wrapping her arms around him in a bear hug. He grinned into it, leaning his head on Z's. They ripped apart a few moments later, and Langley poked him, head resting on the table.

"What is it today?" she asked, her pointer finger moving to turn his cheek. Another thing about Ryan was he only ever drew a stencil on one cheek. It was his good side, okay. Langley cupped his jaw with her whole hand, making Ryan's cheeks puff up. His eyes showed his struggle. "A rain cloud? Wow, dude, that's way emo of you."

To this, Ryan blushed softly, slapping her hand away. She pouted but sniggered shortly after. It wasn't raining anymore - perhaps it was some godly pathetic fallacy from Ryan's part. He wasn't that emo or sad, anyway, just bored and annoyed.

When wasn't he?

Z puckered her lips in a thoughtful pout too, and Ryan felt humiliated and even more annoyed. "I like it," she smiled, an arm still around Ryan. Across them, Lola looked up and lifted her phone, snapping a quick photo of the three. Ryan groaned something a bit like an annoyed insult. He didn't have the mental capacity to actually say anything, plus, it was still early before the bell. Lola just smirked back, nodding along with Paige. Sure, his friends were nice, but not that nice.

"Hey," Ryan mumbled to Lola, distracted. "Hey, um, what's the time?"

It was very, very, important. Brendon arrived at about quarter to eight, and that meant Ryan only have fifteen minutes to - well, okay, try to talk to him. Stalk him? That's what Paige called it, but what did she know? She was straight.

"Eight forty," Lola responded, flipping her phone over to validate her reply. Ryan gnawed down on his bottom lip, not-so-surreptitiously looking around. Z smiled happily and Langley rolled her eyes, closing them before sprawling the top of herself on the table. She pretended she was tired of Brendon, but really? Ryan knew this was the most interesting thing that was happening, since all of them were single.

Z tapped him with the back of her hand as she jerked her head to her left. Ryan's gaze followed and his eyes didn't blink once. There he was, there he was. Ryan knew he was going to go to his locker to put his books away, but unfortunately, that was out of sight from where he was sitting.

So, he did the obvious thing to do, and stood up, slowly but secretly followed him.

"Like a ninja, Ross, remember!" Z called out, loudly, and Ryan scrunched his face in embarrassment because he saw Brendon look bad, and then Brendon caught his eye, and he smiled, and oh, God. He saw his crush wave, and Ryan raised his hand to the back of his head, rubbing up and down.

So demented.

He walked quickly to where Brendon was standing still, waiting for Ryan. So, it wasn't a routine, and this scared him, but, um, hello, Brendon. Ryan stopped at a small distance from him, reasonable enough to not be creepy.

"Hiya," Ryan greeted, putting his earphones in his pocket politely as the two started walking together. So demented. Couldn't he be less annoying, for once?

Brendon just. Well, he smiled. Whatever, right, he was perfect and, whatever. He kept looking at Ryan as he replied, "Hello," so kind and pretty and Ryan wanted to die. "I like your rain cloud." At that, he turned red.

"Hey, thanks."

Ryan kept walking, shyly looking at the ground. He took Z's old advice, 'just try to be adorable, you're good at it.'

He was turning into a teenage stereotype.

"You're a bit of a bellwether, right?" Ryan suddenly wondered out loud, breaking the short-lived silence. It was the word he memorized a few days ago - Langley rolled her eyes when he first said it, but he's grown to love it. He liked words that made him sound smart or cultured. He hoped Brendon did, too. But, yeah, bellwether.

The other boy let out a small laugh, obviously not comprehending the word Ryan found on some random website. "Sorry, what?" he asked, tilting his head a little, his fair flopping to the side. Ryan took notice of this rather than Brendon's quizzical expression. Wow, he really wanted to touch his hair.

However, not wanting to be deemed as a crazy stalker, Ryan shook his head with a polite laugh. At least he knew when to stop being creepy.

He looked to the ground for validation. "Um - like. You got an A or something in maths yesterday," he shrugged, his explanation missing a key point. His fingers tapped against the strap of his backpack nervously, nervously gnawing on his bottom lip as he looked to his left. He wondered if his hands were sweaty - maybe, even if it was kind of cold out. A cold sweat in the middle of a hot day - he'd have to write that one down.

Poor Brendon looked even more confused. "Yeah?" he simply dragged out, his face so close, and yet, so far away from Ryan's.

"So, you're a bellwether," Ryan droned on, eyes searching for understanding in Brendon's own. None. The other boy kept a small smile to his lips, letting out a quick breath. They now had arrived to Brendon's small, blue locker and Ryan waited by Brendon's relaxed side, anticipating a response.

Personally, Ryan never used his locker. It was useless when he could just keep his books at home or in his bag instead. However, he wasn't judging Brendon for using it. He was just more organized than Ryan. Whatever - it was a quality he looked for in a partner. Brendon was it. Organized, beautiful, smart...

"Ryan, I - don't know what that means."

Oh. "Oh," mumbled Ryan, suddenly embarrassed (embarrassed enough to ignore the fact Brendon said his name - okay, wow). Tick smart off of his list. Or, maybe, Ryan himself just wasn't intelligent? Duh. Brendon wouldn't know the word. He was good at math, not English, that was apparent. Ryan cleared his throat, grinning politely (still embarrassed, though) at the other boy. "It means, like, at the top of - like, um, smart. Basically. So."

So. Ryan was an idiot with a love for long words and an inflated ego.

"Thank you, then," Brendon giggled as he kept putting his books away with a enormous smile and Ryan kept quiet, staring at the asphalted ground in silence. He much rather preferred talking in groups - he didn't enjoy having to come up with a topic. It was draining. It was even more draining when he was talking to Brendon. God.

No, you know what, Ryan was tired of waiting. He was tired of waiting, staring at Brendon's pretty face, counting the freckles across his cheeks as he built up the courage to ask him out. Why would Brendon say no, anyway? Like Z once said, he was a hot piece of ass. And, okay, maybe that was a bit of a hyperbole, but Ryan wasn't self-conscious of his face. Maybe his nose, a little, right, but it could be worse. So why shouldn't he ask? He liked Brendon, and maybe Brendon liked him back.

Otherwise, why else would he be talking to Ryan? He was so uninteresting. The only reason, obviously, was that Brendon wasn't opposed to objectifying Ryan; not needing conversation when he was just pretty.

Then again. Ryan needed to be less self-centered.

So, with all these contradicting thoughts in mind, Ryan opened his mouth halfway, ready to ask the question - the question. His irrational side was taking over, and, well.

"Um, Brendon, I was just -" and there it was, ring ring ring. Saved by the bell. Ryan was turning into a teenage stereotype.

"Sorry, I have to go," Brendon sympathetically raised his eyebrows and frowned slightly, probably just politely. He was listening intently earlier. "Come find me later, okay?" He backed away quickly, arms full of books. Ryan stared at him as he turned around and practically ran into the science corridor. He sighed, abandoned at the tiny blue locker.

The grip on his backpack strap tightened, and he turned around.

*

Geography sucked.

All Ryan ever did was stare at the map in front of him - India. Ahmadabad wasn't as interesting of a location as anyone would think, alright, it wasn't. He furrowed his brows at the imposing poster, squinting his eyes slightly.

And the thing was - he had nothing to be moody about. It was his fault. He was too late. He'd never have the courage again, probably. His life was over. Over.

His depressed state was so bad, not even Lola could cheer him up with her stupid jokes. (Maybe, maybe he cracked a smile when she took a map and wrapped it around her neck, calling it 'high fashion,' but it didn't count).

So Ryan just kept staring at the map of India, coming up with another game plan. He'd have to ask Z during lunch. He tried asking Lola, but she was preoccupied with her work. That, or she just didn't want to hear about Ryan's nonexistent love life any longer.

Which, okay. Fair point.

*

Something else that sucked was the fact Ryan had barely any friends in his other classes that day. He wouldn't mind this fact if he had actual interesting classes, but no. God hated him.

So, throughout the lessons he had before lunch, Ryan kept surreptitiously glancing at the clock, an hour, fifty minutes, forty-five, forty...

It was a little obsessive, but it wasn't like he had anything important to focus on. His concentration was purely centered on asking Brendon out. His work, well, when would he need to converse in French, anyway? Besides, this was just - too important.

The good thing was that he wasn't even nervous. He asked Z out, once, and they dated for a while before, well, yeah. The point was that she said yes. He was pretty experienced in the asking-out part, actually, just not the whole I'm-in-a-relationship part. No, no, he couldn't think about that. He was getting ahead of himself.

Although. He kind of really liked the idea of dating Brendon. It was silly, considering Brendon probably didn't even know his first name or his favorite color, but if he said yes, it would come to that eventually. That was the point of a relationship. He could tell Brendon all his favorite songs and favorite words...

The bell rung once more, and Ryan slammed his notebook shut, hurrying to get out of class and to Z.

*

Ryan returned to the courtyard, a bit of a deja-vu seeing his friends there again, sitting and giggling. Sometimes he wished he had guy friends - it was a little lame, hanging out with only girls. Whatever.

He slightly remembered who Brendon's friends were; Brendon mostly sat at a table in the cafeteria that always seemed to be full. So, uh, maybe Brendon was a little bit more popular than him, and had more friends, but still. Ryan was mostly happy with his current high-school life.

When he sat down, Langley was happily eating some almonds while listening to Lola. Truth was, his friends were great, and probably the greatest people there. He thought about this frequently. He was lucky.

But not that lucky.

"Hey," Z greeted, turning around with a muffin in her hand. Ryan sat down at the circular table and tried not to pout. "How did it go with Brendon? Did you compliment him on his majestic, flowing locks?" At this, Ryan furrowed his brows. "Did you tell him that his teeth reminded you of seashells you found at the sea?" Ryan's lips thinned. "How about his -"

"No. Besides, we don't even live near a body of water," he looked around the damp asphalt and grass around them angrily. Z was supposed to be one of the only people supporting him in his quest. Ryan couldn't believe she was bullying him for this. "I can't believe this perfidiousness. I thought you loved me." He crossed his arms, looking at everyone's food. He never packed his own lunch, mostly because he didn't have enough time, nor did he have snacks in his house. It was a little sad, sure.

"You have to stop using big words," she flicked his arm, taking a bite from her muffin. Whatever.

"By using big words, I can stimulate my intellect and maybe get somewhere in life," he defended himself, arms more relaxed. "Unlike you," he said with no real conviction.

Z smirked back at him. "I'll stick to my fourth grade vocabulary, thanks."

He took scouted the area around him, seeing girls talking to each other, some guys with skateboards. Yeah, teenage stereotypes. He reveled in the fresh air and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the old dewdrops. Sometimes, he just zoned out - listening to the unruly kids talk about, uneven in their volume, and enjoyed his youth. Moments like these, the cool wind mixed with the dry air, inspired him. It was a little silly, but it calmed him down.

He did this so often, nobody said anything about it. That's why when he felt a tap on his shoulder, his eyes shot open in fear and surprise. Z was laughing hysterically behind her hand, sliding further away from Ryan. He furrowed his brows, again, and looked behind him to find the one and only Brendon, smiling small. It was a little awkward and Ryan fixed his posture.

Wow, Brendon had touched him.

"Hi," Brendon waved, and Ryan wondered if this was a joke. Leaving his friends for a while to talk to Ryan? Unlikely. Why was he here, anyway? Ryan had an abudance of questions, but his mouth wouldn't say a word.

After a silence that was too long to be appropriate, Ryan mumbled a greeting and turned his entire body around, back to the table, face to Brendon. His cheeks turned a faint red as he looked up at the sunny boy. Brendon himself was searching around the area, too, frequently at the faces of his friends. Ryan turned back to them for a second and, okay, they might have looked really hostile. Brendon was pacing back and forth on his feet, distributing his weight unevenly. Ryan gulped.

Brendon's eyes found Ryan's and, still with a grin, he asked, "Do you know if the maths homework is due today?"

Woah, really, that was it? Any evident trace of excitement on Ryan's face fell as he looked at Z, who still had her mouth covered, not laughing anymore. Her eyebrows were raised up and Ryan looked back to Brendon with an almost confused look. In all honesty, he'd take any topic of conversation from him. He didn't have a right to be disappointed. Although, it was kind of unnecessary that Brendon had asked this - there were about twenty other kids in their class, so.

So.

"Um, I think so? I did it, anyway," he shrugged. His cheeks puffed and he sighed longingly, his fingers tapping against his thigh to a quick rhythm. He felt awfully monosyllabic. That's what Brendon did to him.

Brendon looked at him for a while - yet again, an uncomfortable silence - before taking in a breath. "That's okay, then," he said, starting to look away - starting to get disinterested? Ryan's lips curved down before Brendon mumbled a 'thanks, bye' and went on his way.

After he was gone and Ryan was the right-way round in his seat, his friends seemed to all be shaking their head at him. Like it was his fault Brendon made him nervous.

"Wow, Ross. You're even more mentally disturbed than I thought," Langley hummed disapprovingly, one hand eloquent on her cheek. (Today, like many other days, she had drawn rings on it - Ryan never understood how she kept the ink on so clean. When he tried it one time, his hands turned black and it wasn't pretty). Lola nodded her head along to what Langley had said, arms crossed on the table. Paige reached her arm across to Ryan's, rubbing it up and down slowly before stopping.

Ryan pouted fittingly, reaching his hand to Z's muffin and taking a piece, raising it up to his mouth in defeat. He sighed loudly, a look of sadness in his eyes. "I know."

Z's face had softened after her brows had furrowed. She wrapped an arm around Ryan's shoulders, leaning against his side. She rubbed up and down and up and down and grinned small, closing her eyes. Her hair tickled Ryan's face.

"It's okay," she said, her eyes still shut. "One day, you'll be able to talk about maths awkwardly all you want."

Ryan rolled his eyes to the back of his head and laid his head down on the table.

*

His friends managed to lift his spirits enough to go to maths with a smile on his face.

Well, no, not exactly. He wasn't frowning, though.

He got there earlier than Brendon and sat down in his seat, getting out his textbook and notebook in procedure. He sat horizontally from Brendon, which was a blessing and a curse at the same time. For one, he could throw looks at Brendon quickly without him noticing, but also, occasionally, he had to talk to him. When he was lucky, Brendon even initiated conversation - it was great.

Brendon arrived a few moments later, and Ryan just took a quick glance at him, grinning small.

Lesson was mostly silent from his part, which wasn't unusual. He paid attention to his teacher and did all the work he was assigned. It was very uninteresting and mundane; benign. What did he expect, Brendon to ask him out?

No. Maybe secretly, but no. It didn't happen and, why would it?

Whatever, whatever. When the time came, he packed up his stuff and walked out the door quickly, quickly, quickly enough not to catch Brendon's slightly disappointed face as he looked at Ryan leaving.

*

It was pure luck that him and Spencer lived close together - that's how they became friends, that's how they're still friends. Well, that, and Spencer's general awesomeness. He was funny in this monotonous, bitchy way - sometimes that was good thing, sometimes a bad. It all depended to who Spencer was bitchy to. If it was to Ryan, well, then, it sucked.

So, back to the point, him and Spencer walked home together on a day to day basis. They walked to Spencer's home and played video games for a few hours before Spencer's mom cooked and Ryan would either have to go home or sleep over. It was always fun, a good time.

Spencer had waited for Ryan at the front gate of the school and when he saw Ryan, they started walking together at a slow pace.

He would definitely call Spencer his best friend, after all, he'd known him for ages. Although, he (platonically) loved Z and Langley and his other friends unconditionally, too, and wouldn't hesitate to call them best friends either. Spencer was just different. For one, he was a guy.

Not that it mattered.

"Hey," Spencer squinted after a short while of silent walking. "Are you free Saturday?" he asked, re-positioning his backpack more comfortably over his shoulder.

Ryan raised his gaze up from the gray, asphalted ground to his hamster-like friend. (No, really, Ryan had this entire theory that Spencer secretly transformed into a squirrel at night - burrowing his way into every tree in their neighbourhood, or whatever it was that squirrels did). He took a moment to assess the question. He was usually free on weekends, most of his time being taken up by either Spencer or his other friends.

"Yeah, I think so," he replied after a short while. Conversations with Spencer were always free-flowing and easy.

Spencer nodded once, his pace slowing. "Me and some people were gonna go see a movie, wanna come?"

Ryan had no reason to say no. As long as he didn't need to talk to anyone, he was okay. "Sure," he looked away at a stop sign. They were now walking towards Spencer's street, so not many people were around anymore, just the rare dog-walker. It was all very mundane. "Who with?" he asked out of politeness and curiosity.

It was a little weird, but they didn't question it: Ryan hung out with his friends, Spencer hung out with his. They saw each other during lunch from time to time but otherwise, they didn't really talk at school. It was just a thing. He didn't know who Spencer hung out with, and likewise, Spencer didn't know Z or Langley or anyone. Or, he was pretty sure he didn't.

"Just a few of my friends. It'll be good for you to meet some other people," Spencer replied easily, raising his eyebrows caringly. (This reminded Ryan of Spencer's mom. They were awfully similar, but whenever Ryan said anything about it, Spencer said he didn't know what Ryan was talking about).

He sighed, knowing Spencer was right. Spencer was always right, it seemed.

"Alright, I guess," Ryan looked to the vacant street, gaze falling on a butterfly. "What movie?"

*

The rest of the week at school was pretty colorless.

Wednesday, the highlight of his day was Brendon dropping his books in front of him. Sure, that could be percieved as Ryan just being vile for no reason, but in reality, Brendon had dropped them as he was walking in front of Ryan and so Ryan not only had a glimpse of Brendon's glorious, glorious ass, but also managed to help him pick them up. Maybe now Brendon would see Ryan as a guardian angel - the kindest guy in the school. He hoped for something along those lines.

Thursday, Spencer stopped him in the hallway to ask if he was still going. Ryan wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he was walking with Brendon - of all people! This wasn't exactly a good thing. Ryan meant to say 'yes' but with Brendon watching him, it came out more like himself throwing up. So. Not the best.

Friday was better due to the fact that Z brought him a muffin of his own for lunch. Otherwise, nothing really happened that day. Blessing or a curse, Ryan didn't complain.

*

Ryan nearly threw up at the cinema on Saturday.

Of course. Of course Brendon was there.

He was there and wearing this stupidly good outfit - dark skinny jeans and a dark t-shirt that contrasted with his milky skin and red-rimmed glasses. It was so stupid, he looked so good.

Ryan didn't want to complain, not when Brendon was there and Spencer was expecting him to - well, be social. He knew he was stubborn but he wasn't going to be a stick in the mud. People were here to have fun.

(At least he said hello. A comprehensible hello, too. Brendon even smiled for three seconds before turning back to another conversation.)

He wasn't going to lie and say Spencer's friends didn't make him nervous. It was lame since most of them were in the lower year, but they still made Ryan anxious. The group seemed to never end, although in reality, there were only six people, including them. Apart from Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon, there was Jon, who was in Ryan's English class. There was also William, who went by Bill and was pretty shy, like Ryan.

Then there was a girl named Sarah with nearly scary blue eyes.

Okay, she - well, Ryan didn't think she was pretty, but his opinion may have been unfair due to many factors.

(First of all, he didn't find girls attractive. The prettiest one he knew was Z, but he still felt no romantic attraction to her.

Secondly, she had blue eyes. Ryan had this thing about blue eyes - his mom had them, and, well, she wasn't there anymore. The only person with blue eyes he trusted was Spencer. Blue eyes sent shivers down his spine, and not for a good reason.

Thirdly, she kept staring at Brendon almost lovingly. That didn't have to do anything with her being attractive, per say, but it made him mad and therefore ruined any chances of Ryan liking her.)

"Ryan?" Spencer called while Ryan was burning holes into Sarah's head. She was with Brendon, ordering candy or popcorn (or maybe salad, she looked like she ate salad as a snack) and her back was to Ryan. Thank god for that.

He looked back at Spencer with a confusion. "Yeah, what?"

"Don't be a douche," he replied swiftly as he turned around to talk to Jon and Bill. Don't be a douche? Really? It's not like he would intervene between Sarah and Brendon's heterosexual, whatever. It was obvious to everyone what she was doing and Ryan felt jealous. Why couldn't he just get the right words out? His life sucked.

Throwing his anger onto an innocent girl? A teenage stereotype. She wasn't that innocent, though.

*

So Ryan had a plan.

It was working so far: he managed to get seated between Spencer and Brendon. Blessing and a curse. He would have to execute his plan without Spencer noticing and yelling at him, because, well, he would.

Anyways, the plan. Z would be proud.

Halfway between the movie, lots of giggling aimed at Brendon by Sarah later, Ryan yawned. He'd seen this plan so many times in movies, and it was a little cliched, but his ego stopped him from stopping. So, yeah, Ryan started yawning theatrically, mouth wide, and out of the corner of his eye he could barely see Brendon gazing at him. His arms reached up slowly, a faux stretch. Up up up it went.

Spencer wasn't watching him. God had probably answered his prayers.

The arm closest to Spencer just lowered itself down on the armrest that Spencer wasn't using, and the arm closest to Brendon reached horizontally across the back of Brendon's chair, almost touching Sarah.

(Brendon had sat next to her, too, and Ryan could not be more pissed off.)

His elbow bent only slightly to rest itself on Brendon's shoulder, so light, and as Ryan pulled his eyes away from the large screen in front of him to watch Brendon, he could see the other boy freeze up. He could feel him freeze up - well, alright, at least he wasn't throwing Ryan off of him. That was a start.

As for Sarah, she promptly looked away, absently twirling her hair. She moved further from Brendon, her legs crossed.

Ryan smirked triumphantly.

*

Shit hit the fan only one minute later.

Brendon tapped the hand around him, startling Ryan badly. Ryan turned his head to the boy and Brendon leaned towards his ear, mumbling nervously, "Can I talk to you, um, in the bathroom for a moment?"

Ryan would follow Brendon anywhere, so he nodded quickly and followed Brendon. A burst of anxiety exploded in his chest as they got there. Brendon reached for Ryan's wrist as he pulled him inwards, not close enough. The other boy looked around for any witnesses as he dropped Ryan's hand and put his own in his pockets. Ryan bit down on his lip, expecting nothing great.

"Look, um," Brendon started lowly. Ryan's face fell a fraction, rubbing his wrist nervously. He felt small and slouched, cowardly. He was embarrassed; he obviously knew what this was about. The short silence lived forever. "You're a good - you're a good friend, but, like. You know."

Brendon clicked his tongue, looking for the right words to tell Ryan off, probably. He looked around to the corner of the room, and Ryan couldn't look away from his face. He had only a handful of hope left and even that was too much.

"I appreciate - like, yeah, but, I'm not, um. I'm straight, so, if you're trying to -"

Nope. Ryan spun around on his heel and left the bathroom, long strides so Brendon couldn't catch up. Not that he'd want to.

*

"It's not that bad."

"My life is over!"

Ryan sunk himself into Z's bed even more, hopefully smearing tears on her pillow. Z was sitting down at her desk in her pyjamas. It was early at night, but when Ryan mentioned this between metaphorical sobs, she punched him in the arm. It didn't help his crybaby way.

"Maybe he was going to say something else," Z shrugged, calmly, and this is why he went to her house instead of Spencer's. Well, another reason he didn't go to Spencer was the fact that Spencer was probably still at the movies. Ryan would have to avoid him at school for sure.

He shook his head, still attached to the pillow. He sniffed loudly and looked up at Z, who had a disgusted look on her face. "No," he said, red-eyed. He felt like a teenage girl. Boys like him weren't supposed to cry over their feelings. "He said he was straight. What more?"

Z looked away, maybe in thought. "Maybe he just isn't comfortable with a public gay relationship. Is he even out?"

Ryan furrowed his brows. "No," he repeated himself, "He's straight."

He sniffed again, wondering why he even slung his arm around Brendon. They weren't even good friends. No other results could have happened - this was the only possible one. And, of course he was straight. Of course he probably found Ryan repulsive, disgusting, annoying, stupid.

He couldn't show his face at school anymore. He would have to transfer schools. He would have to go to a military school. He couldn't go to a military school! There was a reason he was so lanky! He appreciated his weirdly disproportionate body.

Well, no. Somewhere close to appreciating it. Maybe that's why Brendon didn't like him?

"Am I ugly?" he asked softly, squinting slightly as he held onto Z's pillow. His sobs were less frequent now. He could think only a little more rationally.

Z rolled her eyes, standing up to sit on the bed next to the puffy-eyed Ryan. She had a small grin on her face, a friendly, loving one as she wrapped her arms around him. Ryan felt even warmer and leaned into her, shutting his eyes closed.

"No," she replied, closing her eyes, following suit to Ryan. "You're being too hard on yourself."

He didn't believe her, but he sure felt better.

*

"Y'alright, Ross?" Langley asked him as he made his way to the grated table. Wow, he must have been really depressed if Langley was showing any hint of empathy towards him. Z must have told her about what happened.

Ryan shrugged, sucking his teeth in as he sat down in between Z and Langley, normal. He rested his head on the palm of his hand lazily as he traced the little metal holes with his pinkie.

"I'll beat him up?" Paige offered, raising her eyebrows. Ryan rolled his eyes and shook his head from side to side. At least nobody else at school knew; who would Brendon have told, if he was straight? Besides, he called himself and Ryan friends - friends didn't spread rumors about each other.

Right?

Well, so far, nobody seemed to be staring at him.

Friends, though. What a loose term - were they still friends? Probably not. God fucking Ryan with his fucking homosexual tendencies. If only he had been less stupid, less bold.

His friends looked at him worriedly for a few seconds before going back to their usual conversations about the popular girls and people who lost their V cards and what Z got on her history test. Overall, if he listened, he could forget about things after a while.

Hopefully.

*

In maths, their teacher let them listen to music while doing the starter activity, twelve questions that would serve Ryan no purpose after his exams. Trigonometry, who?

Most kids were working in groups, which, okay, it would help Ryan understand in the slightest, but he liked working alone. He didn't need a partner. Besides, the only person without one was - well. You can guess who.

Anyways, he had his earbuds in, pencil scribbling across the paper as he started on question two. Class had started eleven minutes ago, but Ryan just found maths naturally easy. That, and, if he looked up from his notebook, he would see Brendon, and that didn't sound like a good thing.

Green Day became louder and louder along with the class - this is why his teacher shouldn't let them do partnered work, it was so annoying. It made him feel small, not having anybody to do his work with. Usually he'd do it with Brendon. Usually.

"Ryan." His teacher places a hand on his shoulder, gesturing the seat in front of him which just happened to double as the seat next to Brendon. Ryan looked back, eyes wide.

Right. Partnered work.

"You guys are the only ones without partners, come on, just do the work together."

Ryan looked down at his six questions, all probably right and finished. He kept from rolling his eyes (he didn't want a detention) and pushed his pencil case and notebook in front of him, standing up, slouched, moving around the table next to Brendon. He was taller than his teacher - normal - so he felt a little defiant.

When he sat down, Brendon opened his mouth to talk, and Ryan put his headphones back in, eyes focused only on his notebook.

When he secretly looked next to him, Brendon's sad eyes were also on his notebook, but he wasn't doing any work.

Huh.

*

After four more hours of hell, Ryan was serenely laying on his back, on his bed, eyes closed, listening to Blink-182, appropriately. He liked to switch it up sometimes. His hands were on the back of his head, and mostly he was relaxed. More relaxed than usual.

He was startled by Z throwing her flower-patterned bag next to his head. She kneeled down by his knees, chin placed on the back of her hands. She looked up at him hopefully, and Ryan raised an eyebrow back, something he'd taught himself to do, freshman year. It took him a while, but he was proud of it.

"How did you get in?" he asked, putting his MP3 player away after a few seconds of staring at each other. Z quirked her lips upwards, now sitting fully on the bed.

She shrugged a shoulder, remaining silent for a while. "Well, you know."

"My dad's not home," he squinted, raising his brows in confusion. Had he left the door unlocked? A window, maybe? Z was sort of like a deluded version of Catwoman, Ryan thought. That was a good simile.

"Doesn't matter," she replied quickly, standing up only to sit down at Ryan's desk. What was up with her preferring to sit at desks, anyways? Ryan didn't understand. He wondered about this more as she turned on his computer, tapping her fingers along the table.

He squinted more angrily.

"Don't you have a computer of your own?" he asked, head tilting to the side slightly.

Z shook her head, not a truthful answer. She clicked her tongue, not looking at him. "Aren't you full of questions today?" Ryan could hear her click once, twice, on his mouse. Hopefully she wasn't downloading some crazy virus. Nah, she wouldn't do that. Well.

After a few awkward, silent moments, Z spun around effortlessly on his spinny chair. (He had it since he was a kid, but Z, for some reason, found the chair entertaining). Her hair landed over her shoulder as she moved to the side, pointing at the screen. Ryan squinted, having trouble reading that far. He sat up on his haunches, leaning forward towards his computer. He made out - what?

His face scraunched up in faux disgust. "Hey, no," he mumbled, looking disapprovingly at Z. She rolled her eyes.

"No, look."

And, okay, he was looking. Brendon's MySpace - what about it? It was. Well. Ryan didn't enjoy looking at it. He remembered Saturday, and, that wasn't a good memory. Nothing about Brendon was good anymore, and, okay, that wasn't true, he was still pretty, but, yeah. Ryan didn't like seeing him anymore. Instead of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, they turned into moths that burst in him from inside out. And, okay, unfair metaphor.

But, yeah, Brendon.

His most recent post, a place to start. Just a post. A picture. A picture of him and - okay, him and Sarah. Ryan tried his hardest not to scowl - actually, he didn't try very hard, but just a little - but, okay. Brendon and Sarah. Brendon and, well, obviously, his girlfriend Sarah.

"The fuck, Z?" he furrowed his brows, infuriated at his friend. Who would do such a thing? He lay his head on his arms which were crossed tightly across his desk. It wasn't like Z to show a picture of his crush with a random girl he maybe kind of loathed. She was such a whore.

Metaphorically. Kind of.

Z poked him in the arm and pointed with the same painted hand. Ryan turned his eyes towards the screen again, mostly to the caption. So, Ryan read.

And he read it again. One, two, three.

Then he read it out loud, "Good times with my friend Sarah this weekend," then looked back at Z. He suddenly felt annoyed. If they were friends, why were they getting all touchy-feely at the movies? He furrowed his brows at himself, trying to figure this all out. If they were friends - did that mean him and Brendon -

No. No chance. Straight. Brendon was straight.

Z smiled. Ryan scowled.

"Friends, huh," he said, mouth dry. Huh.

*

Tuesday.

Ryan may or may not have pondered about today in the shower for a long time. He'd have to talk to Brendon, of course - if him and Sarah were just friends, well. Ryan might have had a chance again. Or not, if Brendon was straight.

Surely someone who wore pink hoodies unironically was gay?

Anyways, Ryan sat down at the grated table as usual, his friends chattering and chattering per usual.

After Z has left, a wide-eyed Ryan sat on his chair formulated a plan on how to talk to Brendon again. He couldn't wait until maths, that would be way too long and Ryan couldn't wait. He just needed to talk to him.

And, because, God loves (hates?) him.

"Ryan?" Brendon asked behind him, and of course it was Brendon, who else would it be? From his current position, Ryan span around so quickly that he had to wonder if whiplash would be a problem later. But, anyways, yeah, Brendon.

He started quietly at the other boy, looking up, his lips chapped and sloped downwards.

Brendon cautiously looked around the table from one friend of Ryan's to another until he came full circle back to Ryan. He was a bit wide-eyed, Ryan noticed, but he wouldn't say anything. Couldn't. His hands lay on his lap in a faux calm manner. Brendon looked around once more, as if he was being watched, and stuck his hand out. For - what?

Obviously this was an odd situation, so Ryan looked at Z for validation. Raising an eyebrow, Z shrugged and looked away. His scowl deepened as he looked back and Brendon and the hand raised in front of him. Unsure, he took it in his own, letting Brendon raise him from his seat and pull him somewhere to the sides where there was more isolation from the rest of the student body.

As soon as they stopped walking, Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Brendon (who seemed too nervous, seriously, what) to speak. The shorter boy cleared his throat, finally.

"So. Um. I think we - well, you, um. I think there's been a misconception? Of sorts?"

Idly, Ryan hummed at the use of a word over two syllables. Then he realized what it was Brendon just said, and he perked up, just a tiny amount, but enough to let Brendon know via his body language that he was interested in what he had to say.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, frowning more in confusion than anything. "Misconception of sorts?" He was surprised at how still his voice sounded.

Here, Brendon laughed nervously. His hand shot up to the back of his neck, rubbing up and down. Ryan flickered his gaze away from him for a moment, waiting for a reply.

"Um, like - I maybe thought you were a spy sent by my parents to see if I was behaving?" Brendon mumbled quickly, and, woah. Wild.

He didn't want to laugh, he knew it would be disrespectful, but he let out a snort anyway. "What?" he shook his head, grinning now. "I'm - not."

"Yeah, I know that," Brendon replied a little bashfully, a blush creeping on his cheeks. After a few seconds of Ryan staring at him, he informed, "I just wanted to let you know that, um, I'm not - straight."

Ryan was dizzy.

He went back into a slight daze, his mouth in a tight line. He looked down at the pavement.

"So did I out myself for nothing?" Brendon laughed a little breathlessly, but nervously. Ryan gazed up quickly, wide-eyed and scared.

He shook his head again, as fast as he could. "No! Uh, that's, um. Fine."

Brendon shoved his hands in his pockets, and Ryan kept staring. Then, he said, "So there's like - no romantic attraction to me at all?"

Maybe it was the sun, but Ryan thought Brendon's lip was quivering. He blinked once, twice, and stayed silent, his fists rolled up into balls by his sides uselessly.

"Um, okay. I guess this was - pointless."

Ryan reached an arm out to still Brendon, finding the words he needed to communicate all his emotions at once. "I thought you were dating Sarah."

"No, gross," Brendon made a face and Ryan laughed a little. "My parents, you know."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, a smile permanent on his face. "So she's just a friend?"

The other boy grinned back, rolling his eyes comically. "If you could call her that."

Before he could think, Ryan asked, "So you wanna go out?" and Brendon smiled widely and nodded, and Ryan leaned in, pressed his lips against his, and, well.

He's never had a nightmare since.


End file.
